


Lost, Gone, Far Away

by awerewolf



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awerewolf/pseuds/awerewolf
Summary: Devil/Mikoshi endingGoro remembers V and yearns.
Relationships: Goro Takemura/Female V
Comments: 11
Kudos: 96





	Lost, Gone, Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> A short one-- Goro has a sad wank.

Goro Takemura had more free time than he ever had before. His position as Saburo Arasaka’s bodyguard had kept him extraordinarily busy, and when his employer had died and he was relieved from his duties, suddenly his life felt very empty. Even upon his return to Arasaka, he did not have the same position. He was reassigned and stuck in the corner, where an eye could be always kept on him to ensure he continued to toe the line.

His life became incredibly mundane. He simply went to work, completed his duties, and then returned to his empty apartment.

He hung his coat up on a nearby coatrack and emptied his pockets on the table. He slipped his shoes off and walked inside. His apartment was empty and cold. He filled a kettle with water and placed it on the stove without turning it on, and went into his bedroom to change.

Saburo Arasaka, his master and longtime friend, was busy attending to new business with renewed youth. Oda was protecting Hanako at all times. His only other friend, the merc-thief he bonded with in Night City, was dead and indefinitely stored in Mikoshi.

And he found himself missing her.

He found himself waiting for the beep on his phone, a message from her about something ridiculous and inane. A picture of her cat, or a video of two drunk men fighting outside a bar while she laughed in the background. She would call him, ask him “What’s up?” She would ask him if he was hungry, if he wanted to grab something to eat. She’d ask how he was feeling, how he was doing.

She cared. It wasn’t something he hadn’t experienced since his mother, or grandmother after that. But V wasn’t motherly at all, and she certainly wasn’t grandmotherly. She was young and gentle, with soft eyes and soft smiles.

He liked her more than he ever intended to. He found himself smiling at her light mocking and mocking her back. He found himself worried for her safety and well-being. He was often plagued with worry that they would not be fast enough, that the relic would kill her before he could help her.

And in many ways, he was right.

She died in the orbital station, her consciousness streamed into Mikoshi to lay in wait, possibly forever. He is shocked by how much it hurts him. He only knew her for a handful of months, but there is a hole in his life where she should have been.

He never told her how much he cared. He never told her how he dreamed of her lips, the soft feel of her hair, the light smell of her perfume clinging to her skin… He never told her how every touch they shared burned into his skin.

He sat on the edge of his bed and thought of her.

She had been covered in refuse when he extracted her from the landfill, and in Viktor’s clinic she had been horrifically bruised, swollen, and injured. But then she appeared in the diner looking like an entirely different person. She was clean, well-dressed, uninjured. It was the first time he had truly seen her.

Every time after that, he could not help but stay shocked by her appearance. How different one could look underneath a layer of garbage and a gunshot wound to the head. She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that would have made a fool out of him had he been a younger man. Or perhaps even still, as he found himself the fool on more than one occasion in her presence.

He had often caught himself staring. He watched the perfect curve of her lips as she spoke. Her tongue would dart out over her bottom lip when she was thinking. He wondered what her mouth would taste like against his own, what her skin would feel like under his hands.

He was plagued with dreams of her during that time. Dreams of her falling into the hands of Arasaka assassins, the relic finally causing her body to fail, but other dreams too. Her nails raking up his chest as she kissed him, barely dressed as she rode his thigh.

He recalled those dreams as he pulled off his clothes. They were less common now as her presence had exited his life. He wished he had something to remember her by, other than the bullet necklace she had given him.

He palmed himself, wishing things could be different.

In his mind, Hanako had listened immediately upon hearing V’s words. Hanako would have left the apartment, immediately setting a plan into motion to depose Yorinobu. V would have been overjoyed at a plan well executed, at the prospect of hope. Her lips against his cheek in happiness would shift into something else. A gentle kiss, and then another.

He could not imagine the taste of her mouth, but he tried. He imagined her tongue against his lips. He imagined her little sounds of pleasure as he undressed her, running his hands down her bare body.

He blinked, clearing his mind for a moment. He stepped into the shower, turning on the hot water. He closed his eyes, running his fingers down his stomach before gripping the hard line of his erection again.

His fantasy shifted and she was there. Her hair plastered to her body as she rinsed herself under the hot water. The gentle slope of her back descended down to her round ass, but he watched and did not touch. She would turn to him with a mischievous look, baring her front. Her hands would run up her body, cupping her own breasts. She’d bite her bottom lip as she flicked her thumbs over her nipples.

He slowed his hand, stroking himself more gently as he imagined touching her. What would her skin feel like? What would she taste like? He imagined the sounds she would make if he knelt between her legs and fucked her with his tongue. She would grip his hair, writhe and moan.

His own moan caught him off guard as he imagined pushing himself inside of her. He would lay her down somewhere, spreading her legs wide so he could see. He would want to watch himself disappear into her flesh, finally taking her after an eternity of wanting to.

She would moan underneath him, her hands gripping his shoulders. He would kiss her often, but lean back to watch her breasts move as he fucked her.

The fantasy split in two.

One side of him was holding her gently, rocking into her with solid thrusts and kissing her as he did so. The other side was pounding into her mercilessly, drawing desperate moans from her as she begged him for her own release.

He did not know which he wanted more, but at the end of it all he only wanted her. He spilled over his hand in the shower, imagining she was still there. She would kiss him, and he would finish showering and make tea for the both of them. They would watch something on television, curled together on the couch. She would curl her cold feet against his bare thigh, and he would complain, but hold her closer.

At the end of the day, he would draw her into bed with him. She would fall asleep against his chest, and he would lay for a while enjoying the smell of her hair and the warmth of her against him.

Instead, he washed himself alone. He poured the water out of his kettle, no longer wanting to drink anything, and went to bed early.

His bed was cold and empty, and V lay somewhere in Mikoshi instead. Her corpse was likely incinerated by Arasaka and disposed of somewhere. She had no grave. Nothing but the disgraced bodyguard she left behind to mourn her.

He turned on his side, staring out into the darkness of his bedroom. Could one love a ghost? Could one love the concept of a person, long gone, possibly forever? He did not know, but he thought of her each day, and when he did, his chest ached.


End file.
